Backstory
by thatenchantedplace
Summary: He doesn't tell her the camera will love her, that her attractiveness will help, because he's slightly afraid of her reaction and more than infatuated with her brain.


That summer the Senior Producer of News Night discovered his wife in bed with the decorator and moved to BBC London. Simultaneously the analyst from Market Wrap Up was indicted for tax fraud. Pure coincidence. A coupling of what Will later coins "Becky Halliday if's". Because if an unstable marriage and IRS investigation hadn't run parallel and given the head of HR a real problem, Sloan Sabbith wouldn't have met Don Keefer. Or at least not quite like that.

He turns up on a whim, five minutes after calling into Newsweek with a case of flu. Don knows he's restless; he is, after all, a newsman with small town syndrome that he blames on his Ohio roots. And Mcavoy may be mild mannered but he's a media giant and though they haven't met, there's some inherent quality of sadness in the anchor that Don empathises with.

When she walks in his first reaction is resignation. For someone who knows the value of image, he does a pretty poor job with self presentation. Usually the slept in plaid shirt and last year's jeans fade away once his mouth opens. But usually he's recruited. Not sitting in a lobby next to a girl who looks like she just walked off the cover of Forbes. Designer skirt suit, copy of The Economist. Shit. He knew he should have read today's jobs data in more detail.

Not one, but every male who walks by, glances at her. He knows without a doubt that he would be one of them – it's his default mode – but said female is competition and for some reason it bugs him.

"Are you staring at me to objectify me or is it a way to throw me off my game?" He splutters.

"I'm not...I wasn't..."

"You're here for the interview?"

"Yeah."

"I wouldn't bother. I'm getting the job." The words "cocky" and "arrogant", words so often hurled at him rise up in his mind. He tries to formulate a comeback.

"I'm sorry I-"

"No I'm sorry, that was kind of...it's just, I know everyone there is to know in the business and I haven't seen you before."

"I work for Newsweek."

"I have two Phds." He blinks.

"In producing?" She frowns. Instantly he feels like an idiot. His brain spools about in an effort to impress her.

"In Economics."

"Aren't you a little overqualified?"

"Karen Browning used to be Treasury Secretary. Not that that helped her much. "

"Wait are you – you're an economist?"

"Yes."

"You're not here for the producer's job?"

"No."

"Alright then." He grins and stretches out a hand. "I'm Don. I'm here for the News Night interview." Comprehension dawns but it still takes her a moment to take his hand. Her fingers are slender. Years later, when she tells him she plays piano, he isn't surprised.

"I'm Sloan Sabbith. We're not competitors?"

"No."

"They're very late."

"They're chasing a story." Sloan looks at him sceptically.

"How can you tell?"

"The phones are going. And in the time we've been having this conversation three twenty somethings, who I'm going to assume are interns have taken the stairs at a sprint. It's a newsroom." He shrugs.

"Yes." Something flickers behind her eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just...I haven't worked in a place like this, at all."

"Can you tell me about stocks and shares?"

"Yes."

"As though I were an idiot?"

"As opposed to you actually being an idiot?" She smiles and he is lost. "I have students."

"You teach?"

"Columbia. Two hours a week." Her students must be in love with her, he thinks.

"Yeah...Ivy League's not going to work. Who's the stupidest person you know?" Her eyes shift again.

"Why?"

"Think of them and then explain what you think they should do with their stocks. But make them feel smart – you don't want to be patronising. Speak English but be friendly."

"What about the camera?"

"It's not a camera. It's not an audience, you're talking to one person...it's kinda like teaching, only instead of making eye contact with everyone, you're focusing on that one student whose really struggling. And smile. It puts people at ease." He doesn't tell her the camera will love her, that her attractiveness will help, because he's slightly afraid of her reaction and more than infatuated with her brain. And bluntness. She gives him a long look before offering him the Op Eds.

"I've read them. And you don't look like you have." She points out the one on the Tea Party healthcare protests and although she's the economist, he's a step ahead politically. They're still arguing when the receptionist calls them in.

It's the first story Mcavoy shows him.

"I'd take an economic angle. Everyone else is talking about freedom, let's talk dollars."It's the kind of thing he knows not to say. Not to someone like Macavoy whose EP is sitting there looking at him as though he's walked out of a dumpster. So he pivots to Michael Jackson and Jaycee Lee Dugard. Will never tells Don that healthcare got him the gig.

Sloan pictures her former fiancé during the screen test and winds up winning a round of applause from the crew.

Afterwards he sees her across the street flagging down a cab and catches her eye. It's the sort of New York moment she's seen on screen and he scoffs at but it's the moment they both return to in later, more complicated years. Her windswept and smiling and him raising a coffee cup in acknowledgement. Nothing but a beginning, really.


End file.
